


Secrets and Scars

by Phoenixofslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Being true to yourself, Body Positivity, Death Eaters with a heart, Ex death eaters, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Flying, Forbidden Love, Healing, Magical Tattoos, Multi, Nipple Piercings, Piercings, Redemption, Romance, Scars, Smut, Tattoos, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad story, True Love, Voldemort would be horrified!, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixofslytherin/pseuds/Phoenixofslytherin
Summary: There are two things that Hermione Granger keeps secret; her forbidden relationship and the true significance of the scars on her body. To protect her sanity she keeps both things fiercely private. But, now her boyfriends have noticed her secrets and while it's easy enough for her to tell them them both the truth, showing her true self to the world is going to be a much bigger ask.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger, Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle, Antonin Dolohov/Thorfinn Rowle, Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Comments: 26
Kudos: 102
Collections: A Devious & Diverse New Year





	Secrets and Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ADeviousDiverseNewYear](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ADeviousDiverseNewYear) collection. 



> This story is written for the Facebook group The Kinks of Knockturn Alley’s Fest - A Devious and Diverse New Year. I was very excited to write for this because the subject of body positivity is very close to my heart. 
> 
> My chosen prompt for the fest was - New Resolutions of Redemption and Forbidden Love.
> 
> My chosen kink was - Stigmatophilia, which is a fetish where people get aroused by other peoples scars, piercings and tattoos.
> 
> Many, many, many thanks to champagneandliterature for being my alpha and beta for this story, as always she has done a wonderful job. 
> 
> There are a few basic Russian words in this story, and I'm sorry if I've butchered any of them, myself and Google translate have a rather love/hate relationship. Most of them are just terms of endearment and hopefully I've got them vaguely right. If not, and if anyone reading this speaks Russian and would like to help improve them, please leave me a comment and I'll get back to you! There is a very brief translation in the notes at the end of this story.
> 
> I hope people enjoy this story, Xxx

“Here you are, Kitten!” Thorfinn Rowle stared at Hermione Granger as he finally found her sitting outside in the hotel garden. She was perched on a bench overlooking an ornamental lake and staring intently at the water lilies that floated gently on its serene surface. “Are you alright?” he asked, but she said nothing in reply, just took a deep breath and looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. “Can I join you?” she nodded this time but still didn't speak as he settled himself on the bench beside her. “Antonin’s worried about you. He said you didn’t watch the fight, that you came out here instead and wouldn’t tell him what’s wrong, nor would you let him stay with you.” 

Hermione shook her head, wondering how to voice what was bothering her or if she should even try to voice it at all. These particular feelings ran a bit deep for a quick chat on a park bench after all. She sighed and turned to face him, frowning at the angry bruise and medically taped cut above his right eye. Finn plucked a small white flower from the nearest bush and handed it to her. She accepted it in silence and fingered the delicate petals gently. It was soft and downy, and its delicacy somehow made her feel worse as guilt now added to the swirl of emotions that she was already feeling. He had done nothing wrong, and she could tell that her distress was upsetting him. “I couldn’t watch. I hate fights in general, and it reminded me too much of other  _ things. _ I’m sorry, and I heard you won, so well done,” she tried her best to smile brightly at him despite her inner turmoil. “That looks painful.”

“Come here, you daft witch.” Finn held out his arm, and she shuffled across the bench and into his embrace. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us you felt that way?” He brushed his injured eye with his finger and winced. “It hurts a bit, but I find a bit of pain is grounding after a contest. Anyway, I shouldn’t have let him hit me if I didn’t want it to hurt, should I?” he grinned. “The other guy looks worse, I promise.”

“Is he alright?”

Finn nodded. “He’s fine. He showered, told me he’d kill me during our next meeting, and then went off to be consoled by his girlfriend.”

“Oh.” She nodded with a sigh of relief. “What did you say to that?”

“In your dreams, sweetheart. He didn’t seem to like my reply much. He called me something vulgar that began with a c and then stomped off.” Finn watched her as she smiled and shook her head gently. “You don’t like the violence of it all?” 

“No.” She still felt unsettled by the memories the event had stirred up. Even now that she knew that everyone was unharmed. “I don’t understand why you do it.” 

Finn shrugged and followed her gaze across the lake. “I do it because I have a terrible temper, and If I don’t channel that into something like this, it ends up bubbling over and getting me into trouble. My criminal records, both magical and muggle, attest to that, and you know it. Most sports in the magical world won’t even hear of letting me take part because of my history, so I have to compete in muggle sports instead. My part of today’s contest is finished though, shall we get out of here?”

She nodded. “Yes, please. But I don't really want to go back in to tell the others we’re going.”

“Wait here then.” He used a finger to turn her face towards his and leaned in to kiss her slowly. He tasted of toothpaste, and his hair was still damp from the shower. As always, his kisses held the promise of much, much more, and she shivered as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and trying to will her worries away. She let him go and watched him saunter casually back into the hotel, then sat back to wait for him to return. The contest was still in full swing, and she had no desire to hear the excited clamor of the audience or to choke on the testosterone that seemed to be hanging so thickly in the late afternoon air. The whole atmosphere brought back long-suppressed memories of past magical duels, cries of shouted suffering and maniacal laughter, the feel of helpless tears, and the metallic taste of blood and terror. No matter how hard she tried to banish them to the depths of her subconscious, those memories never seemed to stay buried. While she wanted to support Finn in everything he did, today had proved that kickboxing competitions were not things that she could ever comfortably watch. 

When he finally emerged from the hotel again, a pair of what looked to be late teenaged girls were following him hopefully, and they scowled in dismay when he reached Hermione and leaned down to kiss her again. Had she been feeling better, she would have found his disdain for their attention amusing. Finn seemed to pick up hangers-on wherever he went, and he treated them all with either bored contempt or outright hostility depending on his mood. “Ant said he’ll give us an hour to ourselves and then join us after that. So, I’m taking you home, Kitten, and just so you know, I plan on fucking you senseless all afternoon to make you feel better.” She smiled, still quietly fingering the flower he had given her, and took his hand. The girls were still watching Finn hopefully, and they both huffed loudly as he pulled Hermione into his arms. “Alright, girls?” he smirked as he pointed his wand in their direction. “Ever seen a Death Eater apparate before?” 

He stepped sideways as a cloud of odorless black smoke enveloped them both. “Finn!” Hermione exclaimed, “You can’t just-! They’re muggles-”

His deep voice cut hers off as his last spell left his wand a split second before they moved. “Obliviate.” 

She landed in the lounge of Finn and Antonin’s flat, and as the fizzing of his apparition cleared from her ears, she looked at him in annoyance. “You can’t just do things like that!! What if the spell didn’t work and they remember what they saw?!”

“Oh please, as if my spell would fail?” He looked genuinely shocked at her suggestion as he crossed to the sink, filled two glasses with tap-water, and passed her one. “It was an enclosed garden with no way out, and you didn’t want to go back inside the hotel. It was an act of mercy, really, getting you out like that.” Hermione drank the water gratefully, still glaring at him in exasperation. Finn just ignored her ire and peered into the mirror above the fireplace to examine the cut and bruise above his eye, then carefully put his eyebrow rings back in as Hermione followed him into the lounge.

She sighed again, long and deep, as she flopped down onto the sofa, finally letting go of the tension she had been holding. “Couldn’t you take up, I don’t know, knitting or something less dangerous than martial arts?” Finn just laughed loudly, and she finally joined in. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I want to support you. I really do. I just can’t watch you do it.”

“Then don’t.” His eyes were somber again as he looked at her. “It’s a perfectly simple solution. No looking, no worries. Problem solved.” She nodded as he stretched, almost making the seams on his rather tight t-shirt burst. If only it were that simple. “I’ll just switch your role to after-fight healer instead. I think you’ll prove rather good at that.” His predatory smirk was back, and she grinned despite her irritation at his devil may care attitude. 

“And how would you like me to heal you?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.”

She cut her eyelashes and smiled up at him. “Am I allowed to use magic?”

“No. If I turn up at training tomorrow without a scratch on me, it’ll look suspicious. It’s muggle remember?”

She nodded, “Then I shall have to do my best to find other ways.” She narrowed her eyes, “are you terribly hurt?”

“Dreadfully so.” He grinned roguishly. “That guy got one good kick into my ribs, and someone in a previous round had quite a good punch. It was awful, really. I fear I’ll need extensive treatment.”

“How many rounds were there?” she asked with a frown. She and Antonin had arrived in time to see the last two. In reality, Hermione had only watched about a minute's worth before she had felt violently ill and had bolted to the sanctuary of the garden. Finn  competed regularly, and this was the first time she had attempted to watch. She had simply run out of excuses not to and hadn’t wanted to admit the real reason she was reluctant to go.

“Five separate short bouts and its winner stays in,” he said casually, “I won them all.” 

“Well done. Let’s have a look at you then, handsome. I can’t heal what I can’t see, can I?” She grinned as she stood up, watching his eyes darken at her boldness. He peeled his shirt off, and she looked him up and down with a slow smile. His body was perfect. He was hard and toned from countless hours in the gym, and his rigorous routines had left every muscle artfully sculpted and defined. His impressive physique was then further accentuated by his carefully chosen tattoos. She had already accepted that both Finn and Antonin's body's had left her ruined for any other man. Her breath was shaky as she eyed Finn’s pierced nipples and the smattering of sparse, dark chest hair, which led her eyes slowly down to his perfectly nipped in and defined hips. She stepped forward, and he kissed her with such intensity that her knees literally went weak. In response, he simply grinned, picked her up as if she weighed nothing, wrapped her legs around his waist, and carried her into the bedroom before depositing her unceremoniously onto the bed and leaning down to thoroughly ravish her.  She crawled backwards up the bed, and he moved up over her and leaned down to kiss her again. “I thought I was supposed to be assessing your injuries?” she asked breathlessly, and he grinned and pulled back. 

“Oh, baby girl, you can assess anything you like.”

“Lay on your back then.” She smiled as he willingly did what she asked. He might be a giant of a man, but he also had a weak spot for being told what to do in bed. He did indeed have an angry red mark over the left side of his ribs, but it must have looked worse than it felt because he didn’t react as she brushed a hand gently over it. There was another smaller and darker bruise on his left pectoral and several red areas along his upper arms and shoulders. She kissed each one gently, running her fingers along the black lines of each one of his tattoos and making him shiver as she kissed over each of his injuries, soothing any remaining sting away with her tongue.

She lingered for a while on his nipples, playing with the silver bars that pierced each one, flicking them gently with her fingers, and then not so gently in the way that Antonin often did, watching him suck in a sharp breath and growl a playful warning at her. She took each one in turn into her mouth, and he groaned as she finally pulled away and smiled down at him. 

Finn reached up, undid the buttons on her top, and then lifted the whole thing to slip over her head. As she raised her arms, she cast a wandless charm to close the curtains, then dropped her arms back down, feeling more comfortable now that the room was darker. “Why do we never have sex in the light, kitten? You always make it dark, is that a thing for you?”

“I just,” she shook her head, unwilling to confess the whole truth, especially after an already emotional afternoon. “Don’t people usually have sex in the dark?” she asked, trying her best to deflect his comment naturally.

“Not if it’s daytime,” Finn said reasonably, and she couldn’t disagree with his logic. 

“I just prefer it in the dark. I, I’m not as comfortable with my body as you are,” she admitted.

“Why?” he peered up at her looking genuinely confused, “you’re stunning.”

“Thank you. I’ve…. okay, fine,” she steeled herself, “open the curtains then.”

“No,” he shook his head stubbornly, “not if you're not comfortable, I don’t know why you feel like that, but it seems important to you. Anyway, you're distracting me. I can’t fulfill my promises if you distract me.”

“And what promises might those be?” 

“Divestio.” She jumped as the rest of their clothes disappeared at a lazy wave of his wand, and he raised his eyebrows as he stroked her hair out of her eyes, “I made a promise to fuck you senseless all afternoon. You haven’t forgotten that already, surely?”

She chuckled softly as her body responded with a visible shiver that made him smirk. “No. Funnily enough, I remember that promise. And I intend to hold you to every word of it too.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Come here.” He rolled over, wincing as he put weight on his bruised rib and kissed her. He started gently, then demanded more until she opened her mouth and let him claim her. As she responded, his kiss became raw and feral, she gasped, and he moaned as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, arching her body up to meet his and grinding herself against him. 

Without breaking their kiss, he reached a hand between their bodies and started to play with her nipples, each rather rough squeeze of his fingers sending a rush of what felt like liquid fire coursing through her to pool low down in her belly. She wriggled underneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist until he moved a hand down lower, “fuck!” he gasped, feeling how wet and ready she was, and without another word, he lined himself up and nudged the very tip of his hard cock against her entrance. “Oh!” she gasped as she bucked against him, wanting more. Very slowly, he gave it to her, letting her adjust to his size as he slid halfway inside her and back out at an infuriatingly slow pace. 

“Finn!” she gasped again, moving against him and trying to entice him to do something more, but he just trapped her arms in one hand above her head and gazed down at her in amusement.

“What?”

“You know what,” she groaned as she shifted position. The thrill of knowing he had completely overpowered any move she could try to make only served to stoke her desire further. “Quit being an arse!”

“Something you want, gorgeous?” he pulled back out, making her groan in frustration, and then impaled himself slowly halfway inside her again.

“Don’t make me hex you. You know what I want-” 

His eyes darkened, and she felt the shudder of arousal that caused his cock to twitch inside her. “I love it when you threaten me.” His voice was little more than a growl, and his smirk was sinful as he gazed down at her, “Is this what you want?” he shifted an inch deeper, and she closed her eyes on a whimper, “careful what you wish for, baby girl, you might not be able to handle it all.”

“I can handle anything you choose to throw at me Thorfinn, now shut up and fuck me.”

That did it. With a loud groan, he thrust deeply inside her. One more snap of his hips, and he was as deep as she had ever felt him before. He paused to check that she was okay and rolled his hips, grinding against her clit and making her squeal with bliss. She loved this, the knowledge that she could bring him to his knees in such a way was heady, and the edge of danger that was present when he took her hard and rough with his control slipping, as it was right now, was addictive. 

She met him hard thrust for hard thrust, and she felt the heat rise inside her. She was getting close, the hard metal of his nipple bars bit into her skin, and the uncomfortable pressure of his hand on her wrists only served to excite her further. She pushed into both feelings, and he let a little more of his weight down onto her as he snapped his hips and made stars burst behind her eyelids. He let her wrists go and wrapped his large hand gently around her throat instead, and she responded with another moan of pleasure. He never did anything more than that, never squeezed or played with her breathing, but the feeling that he might drove her insane. His fingers twitched threateningly, and she came instantly, wave after wave of scorching heat coursing through her as her body shook and she fell to pieces underneath him.

Three more thrusts, and he found his own release. She pressed up against him as he pushed impossibly deep into her and finally let his weight down on her, exhausted and thoroughly sated. She might have enjoyed the feeling of his hand around her throat but his whole body laying on top of hers was too much. She couldn’t even draw in half a breath. She patted him on the shoulder until he opened his eyes and moved, withdrawing himself slowly and settling onto the bed beside her. “Sorry,” he grinned, and she smiled.

“Don’t be. I love being wrapped up in your arms. I love your power, your strength. It does things to me.”

“I know. You play a dangerous game, you know, kitten?” the glint of mischief was back in his whiskey brown eyes as he regarded her fondly, “liking my hands round your  throat, telling me to shut up and fuck you, I know you like it a bit wild but thinking you can handle me is a bad idea.”

She just laughed, “No, it’s not. You’d never harm me.”

He just stared at her incredulously, “you remember who I am, right?”

“Last time I checked, yeah. And I maintain, you’d never harm me. I trust you with my life. In all and any circumstances. Are you telling me I shouldn’t do that?”

He smiled softly down at her with his eyes full of wonder. “No. Of course not. It’s just that I don’t recall anyone  _ ever _ trusting me as completely as you do my whole life. You trust me more than I trust myself.” He shifted as he ran a gentle hand down her arm, and she smiled back.

“Probably.” 

“So.” Finn said as he ran his hand back up her body and stroked her hair instead, “will you tell me what bothers you so much about your body now?”

Hermione sighed again, relaxing against him and tracing the black dragon tattoo lines on his upper arm with her finger. She followed the line of its spine and tail down to the point where it morphed into the snake and skull of his dark mark and smiled. Most of the other ex Death Eaters that she knew had let their Dark Marks fade or had disguised them by covering them up with other tattoos, but Finn had accentuated his. He’d had it re-tattooed in a muggle tattoo parlor when the black lines of the cursed mark had faded to mere pink scars, and he’d had a few other “features,” as he called them, added magically by Antonin. Features that had rendered Hermione speechless at their audacity when she had first seen them. The eerie green eyes of the skull remained, as did the snake that protruded from its mouth, but when the skull was pressed, instead of summoning the Dark Lord as it once had, it now poked its tongue out, crossed its eyes, and let out puffs of green smoke which rolled upwards in clouds across the skin of his arm. 

To buy herself some time while she pondered how much she wanted to tell him, she held her thumb over the skull's missing nose and smiled fondly as it burst into life. “Never thought you’d do that for fun, now did you?” Finn teased, and she flopped back against the pillow and groaned. “It’s my scars, alright? I’ve got loads of them, and I’m self-conscious of them. I hate people seeing them. I hate people looking at me too closely because of it. I’ve let Antonin look at the purple one because, well, because he put it there, but I haven’t even shown him all of them.”

Finn just looked at her curiously as she screwed her eyes tightly shut. He scratched his head, carded his fingers through his long hair, and frowned in confusion. “But you like looking at mine.” She nodded, unable to open her eyes and look at him just yet. 

“I like yours. They fascinate me.” It was true, both Finn and Antonin had an exciting collection of scars, tattoos, and in Finn’s case, piercings, and she loved them all.

“So why do you feel bad about your own?” His brown eyes showed nothing but concern, and she wondered if he would ever truly be able to understand the depth of her discomfort. Finn oozed self-confidence in a way that she could only ever dream of.

“They’re ugly on a woman.” She finally admitted and sighed when he said nothing for a moment. 

“Hermione.” He said, gently tugging on one of her corkscrew curls until she opened her eyes again. “That’s ridiculous. You're beautiful, with or without a few scars.” 

She nodded and resumed the stroking of the skull on his arm. “Thank you. Can you feel this move?” she asked curiously, and he shook his head. 

“Not these days. It used to burn when it was activated, especially if  _ he _ did it, but nowadays, I can’t feel anything. It never used to poke its tongue out at  _ him  _ though either, to be fair so, you know, changes all round.” 

She couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing. The image of Voldemort holding his finger to a Dark Mark that reacted in such a way was just too much for her to keep in. “That’s more like it.” Finn said with a smile, “I don’t like it when you're sad.”

She smiled fondly up at him, gathered her courage, and with a deep breath, wandlessly opened the curtains. He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as he just watched her, and she forced herself to relax and to trust him. Despite his formidable reputation, he had never once given her reason to mistrust him, not since he had been released from Azkaban into her probation program three years ago. He let his eyes sweep down her body again. “Can I look properly?” 

“Yes.” He must have felt her heart rate pick up and her breathing turn to shallow pants of fear as his eyes slowly traveled down, over her shoulders and chest to the purple starburst scar that Antonin’s curse had left so many years ago. He traced the outline with his fingers, then reached down to kiss the prominent scar, then each of the smaller ones surrounding it. He paused to tongue both of her nipples, instantly making them hard. He then continued to travel down her body, finding each and every tiny mark and pressing a sensuous kiss to it. 

He reached the apex of her thighs and nudged them apart, pressed a single chaste kiss to her still sticky sex, and then without a word of warning, plunged his tongue deeply inside. Shocked, she cried out and arched into him, her core suddenly aching again and desperate for more. After a few moments he moved away and kissed his way up her body again. When he was back at her chin, he kissed her lips, climbed on top of her, and thrust sharply back inside her. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper until he growled. “I promised to fuck you within an inch of your life, didn’t I, baby girl?” he asked breathlessly as she just whimpered and tipped her head back, arching her body up into him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Hermione, so fucking perfect.” He whispered earnestly as he stared deeply into her eyes. “Every single one of your scars is part of your history.  They’re part of what makes you, you.” He slowed his pace, pulling slowly almost all of the way out and then deliciously filling her again. “Don’t. Ever. Think. You're. Not. Stunning.” He punctuated every word with a hard, deep thrust, and she cried out as he tipped her over the edge and into sweet oblivion once again. “You’re fucking beautiful okay?” her eyes stayed open despite the tears that slid down her cheeks. She was too lost in his words and mesmerized by the truth shining upon his face as he reached his climax to shut them.

When they had both calmed, Finn picked up her left forearm. He was still inside her and didn’t seem to feel the need to withdraw. “Drop the glamour? Please?” he asked simply. She was trembling as she partially let it go, then slammed it straight back up again as she saw the look that briefly crossed his face.

“No, you don’t.” His voice held a warning, and she tensed. “Don’t jump to the wrong conclusions. I flinched because of the pain you must have felt when she did this. It’s a good thing she’s dead because if she weren’t, I’d hunt her down and kill her myself. I did not frown because it’s an ugly scar.” She looked at him with her bottom lip trembling and nodded as he gently wiped the tears from her eyes with the pad of his thumb. “I told you I have a temper, I see this on you, and I want to slam Bellatrix’s head through the nearest wall.” 

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath, and dropped the glamour properly. This time she saw Finn’s emotion for what it really was, protective anger. He lifted her forearm to his lips and kissed every single one of the jagged red letters. “Have you let Ant have a go at breaking the curse on this?”

Slowly she shook her head. “I’ve never shown it to him. Not like this anyway.”

“He must have seen it, no one can hold a glamour in their sleep.”

“I think maybe I can.” Hermione admitted, “usually when I wake up, it’s covered, and I wear long sleeves a lot of the time.”

“Well, there’s no need.” She felt him twitch inside her, and he grinned as he started to move slowly again, “see what you do to me, baby girl? Scars or no scars, I want you, and I’m honored that you trusted me enough to show this to me. Seriously though, let Ant try. I’d guess that either he or Rodolphus cursed that blade in the first place, and he might be able to ease the scarring a little. Here, talk of the devil.” Finn’s eyes flicked to check his wand was still laying on the bedside table, “that you mate?” he called, picking up the pace of his shallow thrusts a little and making Hermione groan as a fizz sounded from the lounge.

“S’me,” called a strongly accented voice, and Hermione smiled as Antonin followed the sound of their voices to the bedroom, his mouth pulling into a lazy smirk as he saw what they were doing. “Hello Kotehok, I see you’ve started without me.”

“Hey.” She smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. Finn waited until they were lost in each other’s kiss and then deliberately pinched her nipple hard to make her moan into Antonin’s mouth. Antonin just smiled and stood back to watch.

“It’s medicinal fucking.” Finn grinned, “She’s seeing to my injuries.”

Antonin considered them both with amusement as he took off his leather jacket. “If this is after fight care, then I might take up competing again too. You need to be quicker on your feet though, what’s happened to you Krolik,”

“Bunny?” Finn laughed, “Fucking bunny?! Bugger off!”

“Ah, you don’t mean that. Seriously Finn, what’s this all about?” he indicated his own eyebrow and ducked as Finn flipped him off with a pained groan as Hermione clenched around him. “Can I join you both, Milaya?” Antonin asked.

Hermione just nodded breathlessly. They were driving her insane, holding such a relaxed conversation when she was about to detonate under Finn’s ministrations and Antonin’s sinful smirk. They both knew exactly what they were doing to her.

“Before you get lost in her puppy eyes, have you seen this, mate?” Finn slowed his movements almost to a stop, grabbed Hermione’s forearm again, and held it out to Antonin. Hermione flinched, but Antonin barely looked. He nodded and dropped his shirt to the floor. “Can’t you do something for it?”

“I can probably ease the scarring somewhat, but we haven’t discussed it before now.” Hermione tucked her arm away and wriggled, trapped helplessly underneath Finn and still hopelessly aroused as she watched Antonin casually undoing his jeans. “What’s happened Kotehok, you don’t normally leave it unglamoured?”

“I asked why we always had sex in the dark. She doesn’t like her scars.” Finn said simply as Antonin stepped out of his clothes.

“I know.” Antonin was staring at her with such intensity that she blushed. He was stark naked and as hard as a rock. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and moved closer to her as Finn started to move faster inside of her. “The glamour you try to hold drops in your sleep, Detka. As soon as you wake, it comes back up.”

Her reply was lost in a moan as Finn thrust into her deeply, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She reached out and started to stroke Antonin’s hard length as Finn plunged desperately in and out of her in response, and she shattered into a million pieces around him yet again. 

Hermione just closed her eyes and lay back utterly exhausted as Finn moved off of her. “Was it you or Roddy who cursed that blade?” Finn asked, casually carrying on their conversation.

Antonin frowned distastefully. “Rod did it. I tried not to curse weapons for this very reason. We all know he didn’t have the same scruples.” Antonin picked up her forearm and kissed every letter in the same way that Finn had done. I can unpick his curses though. I know his moves.”

“You can make this awful….  _ thing _ go away?” Hermione asked, opening her eyes in shock despite her exhaustion.

“I don’t know. I’ll certainly try. It doesn’t bother me though you’re prekrasnyy, you know that, Milaya?”

“So I keep being told.” She smiled at his nod, still feeling utterly boneless but wondering if there was truth in what they were saying. She had been ashamed of and hidden her scars for so long it was ingrained in her very being now, but their casual discussion of her problem while very obviously showing that they weren’t put off was making her question her age-old fear. 

“You’ve seen my scars and my tattoos, you seem to like them, and Finns,” Antonin reached down and twisted one of Finn’s silver nipple bars sharply, earning himself a growl of protest, which he merely chuckled at. “Oh shush, Dorogoi, you fought well today, you know I find that hot. These too, for that matter.” 

Finn chuckled, “Come and get me then, handsome.” Hermione laughed as Finn grabbed Antonin by the arms, pulled him down, and then flipped them both until Antonin was trapped underneath him as Hermione had been a few minutes before.

It didn’t last long, though, Antonin cast a non-verbal, wandless spell, and Finn jumped back as if he had been burnt. Antonin just smiled as he regained his position on top, and Finn conceded genially. “It makes me laugh, moi horoshiy, that someone like you accepts being on the bottom in bed so easily.”

“Confidence mate,” Finn grinned, “some of us don’t need to prove ourselves.” Their antics made Hermione laugh, and she rolled onto her side and stared at them both as they kissed, wondering if she had the energy to join in again.

“You think you got one more Priyti in you, Milaya?” Antonin asked, and she stared at him in confusion.

“He wants to know if you can come again, Hermione,” Finn answered. “I’m reasonably sure you can. In fact, I know you can, as this one’s for Antonin.”

She smiled, stretching her sore muscles as she nodded. “Can I borrow your broom after, though, please? I want to go flying to clear my head for a bit after this afternoon.” She asked Antonin, and he nodded, looking somewhat bemused at the unexpected request. 

“Da no tvoy golyy.” she looked at him in confusion and realized why he had suddenly reverted completely to Russian. Finn was stroking him still, his eyes mocking him as he completely threw him off his train of thought.

“He said yes, but he’d prefer you to fly with some clothes on.” Finn gave her a wink and returned his attention to Antonin, “Am I right, Krasivyy?”

“More or less.”Antonin laughed, stilled Finn, then turned over to look at Hermione as he patted his thighs. “Are you alright,  D etka?” he asked. She nodded and straddled him delicately despite her protesting muscles and nodded, “do you want company flying?”

She shook her head as he lifted her hips and guided her down gently on top of him, impaling her slowly until he was fully seated inside of her. She started to move slowly and sighed with pleasure at the familiar feeling of fullness. “Not this time, thank you. I just need some time on my own for a few minutes. Honestly,” she smiled at his concern, “you know… ahhhh….. I like time to myself…. Oh, gods…. Occasionally……. Oh! So good….. If it makes you….. Mmmmm….. feel better you can track me.”

“I always track you anyway, Kotehok. I always know where you are.” He said breathlessly as he recognized her soreness and reached forwards to stroke her clit instead. Finn chuckled darkly as he lifted a hand and played lazily with her nipples.

“Oh!” she gasped, wondering if she should be more upset by that revelation as Antonin squeezed her swollen bud between his finger and thumb to distract her from the conversation.

“Isn't that an invasion of privacy?” Finn asked mildly. “And should I be hurt that you don’t track me?”

“You can look after yourself, Krasivyy.” His breathing was heavy, and his face was pained. She knew he was holding himself back, and despite her soreness, she moved against him, pressing into him and grinding against his gentle movements until she cried out as she came hard against him. His control and timing was impeccable as always. He came a split second after she did, and she collapsed forwards onto him, panting hard and truly and utterly spent. 

* * *

  
  


After an hour’s sleep and a quick shower, Hermione left them both preparing a rather late dinner, took Antonin’s broom down from the rack, and slipped out into the cool evening. She checked to see that no one was watching and cast a disillusionment spell over herself and the broom and then kicked off into the sky. 

Her worries instantly started to settle as the ground fell away and the wind whistled past her ears. She flew higher and higher until she was soaring above the birds and l ooking down on the tiny, miniaturized world far below. She circled and swooped, flipped, twisted and even flew upside down for a bit. She finally righted herself and sped up to the broom’s top speed before skidding to an abrupt stop and just hanging motionless in mid-air. She leaned forwards carefully, cast a cushioning charm over the unforgivingly hard handle, and lay as if she was floating in water, with her arms and legs hanging down on either side of the broom, relaxed and invisible far above the world. She had no idea where she was, and she didn’t particularly care, she could easily apparate back to the flat, and apparently, Antonin was tracking her anyway.

The thought of that made her smile. She knew that some people would find his slightly obsessive love unnerving, but she liked it. His protective side was unparalleled, except maybe by Finn’s, and she knew that if she ever needed either of them, they would be beside her in a heartbeat. She moved her arms as if she really was swimming and lost her balance, grabbed the broom, and swooped gracefully away with a laugh. 

People were often surprised by her newfound love of flying. She had always hated to be on a broom in her younger years. Flying had truly terrified her until after the war when she had finally come to grips with her fear. She had asked Harry to teach her, but that hadn’t worked out especially well, and in the end, it had been Ron who had patiently flown low to the ground beside her until she got her confidence and then taught her the moves and balances she needed to fly properly. After hours of his patient teaching, something had suddenly clicked in her brain, and she had fallen in love with the freedom that being on a broom gave her. Nowadays, if something was bothering her, this was where she went. Up, up, up into the sky where no one could reach her, and she could be free.

Once she’d had her fill with flying erratically, and her tension had abated, she started to think about what was bothering her. The truth had been bugging her all day. She had avoided the issue for years, though, and if she was honest, she didn’t want to face it now. But, it seemed that the time for burying her head in the sand had passed. Hermione hated the scars on her body for more than the reason she had given Finn. It was true. They were vaguely ugly, but that wasn't what upset her the most about them. She wasn’t an overly shallow person. 

The problem was what the scars themselves represented. 

All her life Hermione had felt as if she didn’t belong. Starting when she was a very small child, she had suffered badly with bursts of uncontrollable magic. She had known that she was different from the people around her. Her parents had tried to hide her growing powers. Being muggles, they hadn’t understood what was happening. Her abilities had scared them, and they had unwittingly passed that fear on to her. She had been bullied all through her time at muggle school for the same reason, the magic that she had never been able to control had frightened the other children so much that they had turned her into an outcast. 

Finally, she had turned eleven, and Professor McGonagall had visited her family to explain that she was a witch, and suddenly everything had made sense. Hermione had gone to Hogwarts with her head full of dreams and wonder, hoping desperately to be accepted into the magical world, only to find that she didn't quite fit there either. In the muggle world, she had been bullied for being magical, and in the magical world, she had been bullied for being muggle-born. Wherever she went, she found she was disliked and ostracised.

The vile slur that Bellatrix had carved into her arm was a symbol of yet more hatred. That scar, in particular, had come to symbolize her lifetime of attempted oppression, and it leached away at her self confidence every time she saw it. She couldn't admit to herself, let alone anyone else, just how much the near incessant bullying had hurt her. She was fascinated by other people’s scars, and particularly Finn’s dark mark tattoo, because, in essence, it was the same as her mudblood scar. The difference was that he wore his past  proudly, if a little cockily on his left arm, whereas she hid hers away. He could show the world who and what he was, and not give a damn what anyone thought. It was the part of his nature that she found to be the most frustrating at times because she simply didn't possess it herself. 

Aside from her scars, there was something else that she was hiding from the world too, her entire relationship with Antonin and Finn. It was her best-kept secret, and she was terrified of the public’s reaction if it eventually came out into the open.

She had been with Antonin for four months now, and Finn had joined their relationship almost two months ago following his messy breakup with Pansy Parkinson. Antonin and Finn had a close past relationship that went back many years and included several different witches who had come and gone, and the two men were as close as any two people she had ever met. The fact that they both wanted to include her permanently in their relationship was as astonishing to her as it was welcome. Finally,  _ finally, _ she had found somewhere that she truly felt safe and wanted. 

But, she was well aware that the magical world at large would be horrified to know who she had fallen in love with. So far, she just hadn’t been brave enough to reveal their relationship and to face what would inevitably be more bullying from both sides of the divide that the last wizarding war had created.

The reason for that was simple. Both Antonin and Finn were as forbidden to her as any love could be. They were no t only from opposing sides in the war. Hermione had been part of the Golden Trio, and Antonin, in particular, had been one of the highest-ranking members of Voldemort’s most trusted inner circle. Fewer eyebrows would probably be raised if Harry brought Voldemort back from the dead and announced their engagement.

The real reason that Hermione kept her scars hidden was that they symbolized her unwillingness to face the pain that her past bullying had caused, and also her fear of opening herself up to more of the same by revealing her true self and, therefore, her forbidden relationship. 

This was also the reason that she couldn’t watch Finn fight. Aside from the fact that she hated violence and seeing people get hurt, it was an undeniable expression of their differences and who they both were as people. Finn was very comfortable expressing that side of himself publicly, while she kept her private side and her past well hidden. She knew that anyone from the wizarding world would be surprised to see her attend such an event, and they would be even more outraged to see who she was supporting by being there.

The truth was simple; both Antonin and Finn knew who and what they were. They knew that people often hated them on sight, and they honestly didn’t care. They were both confident in themselves and saw no need to gain the approval of others, while Hermione’s lifetime of bullying had left her more vulnerable and insecure than she liked to admit. She had finally found acceptance in the eyes of the magical world thanks to her role in the war. She held a well-respected job, had close and well respected friends, and was generally a very well respected person. 

She had long come to terms with both of her boyfriend’s pasts. Finn was the first to admit that he had done some indefensible things in his life, as had Antonin. In fact Antonin openly admitted that he had done worse. Their insistence that most of the original Death Eaters had a moral code of conduct and only hurt people who crossed them first was a valid one, though. She had heard the news of these unwritten rules many times. Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, and several other, lower-ranking Death Eaters had all told her the same thing. Hell, even Rodolphus Lestrange had told her that the code existed before fixing her with his maniacal eyes and informing her that he never adhered to any such code. That had been directly before he had laid his hands on her body, and Antonin had half-killed him with a vicious crucio in front of Harry and Ron, who had swiftly transported him back to Azkaban. But, she supposed that was beside the point. The code itself existed, and both of her wizards had stuck to it throughout their Death Eater careers. Neither of them had ever intentionally harmed a woman or a child, nor anyone who hadn’t crossed them first. Finn’s propensity towards arson when he lost his temper aside, they were both, in her opinion, good men.

What she hadn’t come to terms with was how the public would react to their relationship. Harry and Ron had long since fallen from public grace, the Chosen One himself by punching a reporter outside of the Leaky Cauldron, and Ron after one too many incriminating photographs had emerged of him doing things that he shouldn’t be doing. Although both of them were still well respected and hailed as heroes, they were also now seen as human with faults like everyone else. Hermione was the only one still held to unattainable standards. She was, for now, still the golden girl. 

She needed to find the courage to stop hiding their relationship. She’d shown Finn her arm, Antonin it appeared had long known about it, and neither of them had pushed her away. She wanted to explain the scars' real significance now. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out as she swooped lower to the ground. She was finally ready to show her scars, and therefore her true self to the world.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she twisted in mid air and apparated back to the flat. Finn looked up from pulling plates out of the oven and smiled, and Antonin put down the bottle of wine he was holding, looking worried. “You’ve been out a long time Kotehok.” He looked her up and down as if assessing her for any problems she may have encountered, “are you okay?” she smiled as she nodded and kissed him.

“I am, yes. I just needed to do some thinking. Let’s sit down and have some dinner. There are some things I need to tell you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was Antonin who woke her late the next morning. He turned over and wrapped his arm around her causing her to nestle back into him with a sleepy sigh. His hand slid smoothly under her vest top and began to play gently with her nipples. They were still sensitive after all the attention they had received yesterday, and she would have moved his hand away if the extra sensation hadn’t felt so good under his gentle touch. He grunted as  she wriggled her bottom against him, grinning as she felt him hard and unyielding against her already. “Good morning,” he whispered.

“Morning.” She pressed back again, deliberately trying to affect him. “Are you alright there, handsome?”

“Yeshche net, but I will be when I’ve just-” he paused as he reached under the pillow for his wand, and she felt her clothes disappear, “-there. That’s better.” He squeezed her protesting nipple sharply between his thumb and forefinger, and she yelped, waking Finn who opened his eyes and smiled. The bruise on his face had developed more overnight and looked worse in the unfiltered morning light, although the cut itself looked slightly better. She itched to heal it with magic but remembered what he had told her the previous day, so she refrained from touching it as he kissed her hello. She felt Antonin’s fingers brush through her folds, and she moaned as he uttered something she didn’t understand, then slid smoothly inside her. 

“How are you always so beautifully turned on, Milaya? You’re always ready for us, always.”

“I don’t know. It must be something about the pair of you.” He kissed her neck sensuously, and she sucked in a long breath and willed him never to stop. 

It was slow and easy this morning, a complete contrast to yesterday, and she closed her eyes, giving in to the sensual movement. “Did you mean what you told us last night, baby girl?” Finn whispered, and she nodded, moaning as she clenched around Antonin’s physical response to her affirmation.

“You know we would never want you to do anything you're not comfortable with?”

“I know.” And she did, she really did. “I’ve got you two, and that’s all that matters to me these days.” Finn glanced down at her unglamoured arm and blew it a kiss, making her smile. It felt good to have finally told them all of her secrets and to no longer be hiding parts of  herself away. 

Antonin pulled her even tighter against him, and she mewled as he reached round with his other hand and started to play with her clit. “If anyone, and I mean anyone, gives you a hard time Detka, we’ve got you. You know that?” 

“Yes!!” her answer morphed into a gasp as he flicked her clit, and she pushed back into him again, holding him tightly with her inner muscles until he came, emptying himself into her and causing her own orgasm to scorch through her like liquid fire.

He held her close as she trembled and whispered words that she didn’t understand into her hair. Judging by the stunned look on Finn’s face, he knew what some of them meant, and she looked at him quizzically for an explanation. “I think, baby girl, that’s the closest you’ll ever get to making this one spill his heart and soul to you. We talked last night after you fell asleep. We were both truly touched by what you said. I’m glad you feel able to share your fears with us, and I’m glad you feel more able to be open about things now.”

“We understand why you’ve kept our relationship so fiercely guarded and private,” Antonin said, “but I won’t deny that it’s hurt a little. I’m glad that you’re feeling confident enough to stop doing that now.”

She nodded, absently playing with the dark hairs on his arm. “Me too. Thank you for pushing me to explain yesterday, Finn. I feel better for it.”

“Good.” He said simply. “So new beginnings and all that, do you wanna go set the world on fire?”

“Some would consider that a bad choice of words for a convicted arsonist,” Antonin smirked from behind her, and Finn laughed.

“Ah, come on, I can’t have you thinking I’ve gone soft, can I?” he chuckled, “although I was speaking metaphorically in this case… can I take you both for lunch in Diagon Alley later?”

“I’m in,” Antonin fingered his wand lovingly, “what about you, Milaya?”

She closed her eyes and smiled. The confidence that had so often eluded her lately was right back where it should be. She opened her eyes, stared at them both defiantly, and grinned. “Absolutely. I know you were joking, Finn, but the world will probably burn down all around us, you know that, right?”

“Bring it on then,” Finn grinned. 

Antonin just nodded with a proud smirk, “Bring it on, then Kotehok.”

“She grinned too. “Okay.” She looked from Antonin to Finn and smiled, “in that case, I’m ready. Like you say, bring it on!”

**Author's Note:**

> Russian to English translations. (Hopefully mostly right, if not I apologise!!)  
> Kotehok - Kitten  
> Krolik - Bunny  
> Milaya - Sweet  
> Detka - Baby  
> Prekrasnyy - Beautiful  
> Dorogoi - Dear  
> Moi horoshiy - My good  
> Priyti - Come  
> Da no tvoy golyy - Yes, but not naked.  
> Yeshche net - Not yet.


End file.
